On the morning of July 1, 2008, at exactly 8:30 AM, Rohan Mahesh stepped out of his small shack in Dharavi, the largest slum in Mumbai, India. His home—a cramped ten-square-meter structure made of wooden planks and plastic sheets—housed four people: his parents, himself, and his younger brother.

He stretched his stiff body, intending to take a deep breath of fresh air, but the moment he inhaled, the overwhelming stench of rot and sewage forced him to stop. He nearly gagged.

At that moment, Rohan fully realized his situation. This wasn't China. This was India. More specifically, Dharavi—the heart of poverty and suffering.

Because he was no longer the original Rohan.

Last night, a Chinese businessman had replaced the soul of this body.

In his past life, Luo Tian was a successful Chinese businessman who had spent over a decade working in Mumbai. He had been familiar with the city for years, often traveling through its districts and learning its ways.

He had always known about Dharavi—it was world-famous, especially after the release of Slumdog Millionaire. But as someone who had lived comfortably in an upper-middle-class neighborhood, he had never personally experienced the slums.

Now, however, he was living in it.

The smell of decay, the overpowering stench of human waste, and the contaminated water flooding the streets after last night's rain were inescapable. Mud mixed with excrement covered the narrow alleys.

As Rohan adjusted to the horrifying reality of his new life, his mother's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"I already told everyone that the next promotion will be yours!" she said proudly.

His father, Mahesh, scoffed. "You always talk nonsense. With so many people competing, how can you be so sure?"

"Why not? Our Rohan speaks English, and the director likes him. Right, Rohan?"

"I'll try my best," Rohan responded with a sigh.

He understood why his mother bragged—it was a way to elevate their family's status among their neighbors.

For the lower-class, even a small success could change everything.

Since Rohan became a policeman, his parents had gained newfound respect in their community. His mother loved the envy she saw in the eyes of other women, while his father had become a well-regarded mediator in local disputes. Having a son in uniform meant something, even if he was just a low-ranking officer.

Recently, the police station had announced a vacancy for First-Class Police Officer, and his mother was convinced that Rohan would get the promotion.

At 21 years old, Rohan looked decent—at least, he wasn't as dark-skinned as some of his colleagues. He worked at Sion Police Station, one of the lowest-level precincts in Mumbai.

Three years ago, after finishing high school, he passed the entrance exam and joined the police force. However, he remained at the bottom, holding the rank of Second-Class Police Officer.

The Indian police hierarchy was simple:

Second-Class Police Officer – Entry-level, no insignia on the uniform. First-Class Police Officer – Two downward V-shaped emblems on the armband and two horizontal stripes on the shoulder straps. Police Sergeant – Three downward chevrons on the armband and three horizontal stripes on the shoulder straps.

Right now, Rohan's khaki uniform was plain—no stripes, no badges. He was still at the lowest rung of the ladder.

Promotions weren't easy. It wasn't just about years of service—connections mattered more. Some officers spent ten years stuck at the same rank, unable to advance. A promotion in just three years was nearly impossible.

For 90% of officers, the rank of Sergeant was the highest they would ever reach. That was their ceiling.

Despite his situation, the original Rohan had been ambitious.

Although he had joined the police force straight out of high school, he had also enrolled in an Open University to continue his education. After three years of study, he had finally earned his bachelor's degree.

This Open University allowed students to study both online and offline, completing credits at their own pace. The Indian government recognized this degree as equivalent to a full-time university diploma, making it valid for higher-level exams.

With this qualification, Rohan could now attempt two crucial exams:

The Indian Federal Civil Service Exam – Comparable to China's National Exam, but with a brutal competition ratio of 1,000 applicants per position. The State Civil Service Exam – A provincial-level government exam.

The Federal Civil Service Exam was legendary for its difficulty. While China's national exam had a 40–70:1 competition ratio, India's exam was often 1,000:1 or higher.

Still, for now, Rohan's focus wasn't on the exams.

His first goal was simple—get promoted and escape the lowest ranks of the police force.